


The Measure Of A Male

by tielan



Series: A Queen For Marvel Territory [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Jewels, Alternate Universe - Black Jewels Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Chess, F/M, action-adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: The other eleven males of her First Circle were known to her. Most of them belonged to her, and those that didn't had been with her since that first year she walked into the residence at Aer Gerulus with Nick and Phil flanking her.Steve Rogers was something else.





	

Once she was out of sight of the manor, Maria took a moment to change her clothing from the solid darks of her trousers and turtleneck top to layered greys and browns and a white fur-lined jacket to blend in with the bleak snow of the countryside. Then she picked her way through the bleak, sere winterscape, mindful of the tracks she left, mindful that her lead was short, mindful that this game might be over before it even began.

The spell she cast was simple enough – a blending, to make her part of the landscape so long as she remained still. It could be broken by a stronger Jewel, or seen through if she made a noise or moved, or if someone blundered into her.

It was a calculated risk to take with a Grey-Jewelled, warrior-trained Warlord Prince hunting her, but she needed to know.

The other eleven males of her First Circle were known to her. Most of them belonged to her, and those that didn't had been with her since that first year she walked into the residence at Aer Gerulus with Nick and Phil flanking her.

Steve Rogers was something else.

* * *

Steve wasn't sure quite what to expect when the Queen asked him to attend her after dinner. There was none of the ribaldry or nudging that portended an invitation to her bed, and the request was made without any of the coyness or flirtation that he would have expected from a witch trying to indicate her interest.

Maybe he’d just been out of a court for too long.

But when he arrived at her quarters, it seemed there was nothing more on her mind than a game of chess, which was a relief. Sex, he could do, but he wasn’t sure it would be _want_ – and Steve had the feeling that Lady Hill would know it – and resent it.

A game of wits and strategy, though, he could definitely do.

"Equal strength?" Maria asked as she set out the board. "Light or Dark Jewels?"

"Light." It gave her the slightest of advantages, to have the first move, but Steve already knew: the point of this game wasn’t to win.

* * *

He paused a moment before Maria moved, and she breathed very quietly and evenly and stood quite still as he scanned the landscape. His gaze passed over her completely, and she slid out of the way of his psychic probe, her thoughts fluid and uncatchable as the chill wind that bit into them both out here on the ground of Stark Manor.

Two hours, in which she had to get out to the road and back. Two hours during which she would be hunted by one of her own First Circle – and, moreover, a male of her Blood Triangle.

Nick and Tony had tried to argue her out of it, of course. Logan had arched a brow and just narrowed his eyes, while Thor frowned but held his tongue. Clint and Rhodey looked as though they had pointed things to say, but didn’t quite think it was their place to say it. The witches were more understanding, although Jane, Pepper, and Darcy didn’t quite comprehend _why_.

Only Natasha had given unequivocal approval to Maria’s decision.

Phil had come to her before she left the house, though.

_You don’t have to prove yourself to us or him._

_No,_ she’d said quietly, _But I have to prove myself to me._

* * *

The board was nearly set up when there was a knock at the door.

Steve tensed, expecting Fury or, worse, Stark. Already on edge, he wasn’t in the mood to square off against either of the two Warlord Princes who dominated Maria’s court.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said a light, easy voice that was neither male nor demanding of answers. “I came to return the books before I forgot entirely and took them back with me.”

“So you’ll be leaving first thing in the morning?” Maria asked Lady Foster.

Steve didn’t hear the response. Thor – standing silent and smiling at his lady’s back – spoke to him on a Grey psychic thread. *Will you require a contraceptive brew?*

There was no threat in the other Warlord Prince’s psychic tone, no sense of a warning being given. Steve answered without dissembling. *I don’t know. Will I?*

The vial appeared in the air between them – shielded by a Grey sight-spell so that neither witch could see it. *Just in case.*

The understanding and acceptance was more than he’d gotten from any other Warlord Prince in the court since he’d arrived. The Queen’s acceptance of his service was paramount, but the males of the court who belonged to her didn’t have to make it easy for a newcomer.

*Thank you,* Steve said.

* * *

The snowpack through the woods wasn’t quite hard enough to hold her up. Maria floundered through the snow, stomping it under her feet, well aware that she was making an obvious trail.

That was the _point_ of it, after all.

She reached a small clearing between several trees, and paused. Stroked a slender thread of Jewelled power into a small tangled web and hung it where someone tracking her would stumble through it. Nothing harmful – just a brief disorientation that wouldn’t last longer than five minutes – probably less, considering the strength of Prince Rogers’ Jewels and how fast he’d burn it off.

Then she plunged on through the snow, setting the trail up for another ten yards before grabbing a low-hanging branch and swinging herself up with a combination of muscle and Craft and surveying her work.

In this section of the estate, the trees grew thick and close together – close enough that she could move through the branches of the trees, a little way back in the direction she’d come, before heading off in another direction entirely.

He’d be more cautious after encountering this, but Maria had a few more tricks up her sleeve, and fully intended to use them.

She'd never played like this before.

But then, before this, it had never been a game.

* * *

As Peggy’s Consort, Steve had spent many evenings across a chessboard from his Queen, trying to discern her mood, trying to figure out what she’d do next, trying to think one step ahead.

It had mostly been a game back then.

Now, sitting across from the Queen who’d accepted his service as a member of her First Circle, as one of the oldest and most experienced warriors in her court, this wasn’t a game. It was, in its own way, a council of war and strategy – an insight into the mind of the Queen whom Steve was going to serve.

“When does the court move back to Aer Gerulus?”

She picked up an edge pawn, moved it forward two squares. “The day after the Winsol holiday ends. Then the madness begins.”

Steve moved a Black Widow out, hopping the piece over the pawns to menace at one of Maria’s castles. An aggressive starter move, made to draw her out. “It’s been a long time since there was a Queen ruling the Territory. Officially, anyway.”

“That’s why it’ll be busy.” Maria moved another pawn two squares forward – a more cautious play than he would have expected from her – and sat back. “Are you ready for it?”

Steve glanced up at her. “Are you?”

Her expression glittered, bright and game and dangerous. “I guess we’ll find out.”

* * *

After the first trail, she made sure she left only traces – little touches of Jewelled power here and there, tangled webs that she’d been keeping for years, that she’d made years ago, when still a girl in Lady Grey’s court.

She’d played like this as a child, out in the snow. The goal was simply to stay free, to not be caught, something of an effort with Logan’s tracking skills and Scott’s sharp awareness of everything around him. Jean would play from time to time, bringing keen skill into the mix. And, once or twice, Madelyne joined in with her spell-traps – and turned the play upside down.

Maria had enjoyed the games with Madelyne’s spell-traps best – they were a fun challenge to navigate. Nate had complained it was only because Maria was the best at evading them; Maria had retorted that he just didn’t like losing.

She spun her tangled webs to be small but cumulative: breathlessness, a cramp in his calf, a stumble into another web that would prickle his skin like he’d just stepped into a bramble bush...

Little things that would grow into big things over time, that would slow him down, irritate him, confuse him.

If she couldn’t fight a Grey-Jewelled Warlord Prince outright, then she could wear him down. It might make the difference between life or death in a fight.

Putting the last touches on this set of traps, she felt the first trap go off – a little twinge in the back of her head – and smiled.

* * *

Maria wasn’t playing the way Steve had expected her to play.

She wasn’t a timid Queen. The witch who’d ended the war against the Hydra by persuading Stark to let her capture and interrogate a Hydra soldier was not timid by anyone’s definition of the word. And yet her game was…careful. Cautious where it should have been bold, and bold in all the wrong places.

“Who taught you to play chess?” He asked as she moved a Warlord into a position that left a Priestess vulnerable to attack.

“Mostly Charles and Madelyne.”

Taking the Priestess with one of his Princes, Steve frowned as he tried to place the new name. Charles could only be Charles Xavier, Steward of the Phoenix court, but, “Madelyne?”

“Jean’s sister. She lived on the edges of the estate – when she lived anywhere at all.” At the frown Steve shot her, Maria explained. “She was a Black Widow Queen who walked in the Twisted Kingdom.”

“Don’t they all?”

“Yes, but she chose the Twisted Kingdom to reclaim her Craft.”

 _To_ _ **reclaim**_ _…_ Steve didn’t shudder, although he wanted to. “She’d been broken?”

Maria’s expression was sombre. “Yes.”

* * *

Mindful of how close he was getting, Maria put a twist into the tripwires. It wasn’t deadly or even debilitating, but if he didn’t shield properly, it would ache for the rest of the afternoon.

The first time she used the tripwires on Clint, she made them mild. Afterwards, he told her that if someone was ever hunting her for real, she should make them deadly.

She didn’t tell him that she’d made them mild for him.

Phil still believed he was the first Blood to find her after Logan left her in the forest cottage. Maria had never said otherwise. What she did to survive was what she did to survive. And the truth was, if she hadn’t felt that tug of connection between her and Phil, she would have buried him with the others.

Maria had never held those deaths on her conscience.

 _Your life is valuable as a Queen,_ she remembered Madelyne saying once, out in the woods, standing over the mud Maria had landed in when the psychic tripwire caught her up. _More valuable than any member of your court._ The green eyes held rather more than their usual madness, and the sight had sent chills down Maria’s spine. _Always remember that._

* * *

The tide of the game was turning. A storm of pawns pinned Steve’s caste pieces while her Queen, Warlord Princes, and Black Widows took them, one by one by one.

 _This_ was the game he’d expected from her. And when he looked up from his move – retreating his Queen away from the attacking side – and met Maria’s bland, bright-eyed gaze, Steve knew he’d been taken in.

The end came fast, the tide turning swift and sure. Four moves and his Queen was trapped in a swift and sudden strike for the heart – a win by a Queen who planned ahead, considered the options, and would neither give quarter nor expect it.

Steve figured he shouldn’t have expected anything less. The witch who’d worked out who and what the Hydra were, and how to stop them was not one to be taken lightly. He acknowledged the win by tipping his Queen over, and sitting back in his chair. “Well played, Lady.”

Her smile was slow and pleased. “Thank you, Prince.”

* * *

Something in the air put Maria on edge.

She’d felt the quiver of her own power resonate along the psychic threads signalling that her traps were sprung. According to the order of the sprung traps, he should still be some way behind her.

The house was in sight, just beyond the rise where she sheltered in the shadows of the trees. The way seemed clear.

_When you make an assumption, you’re making an ass out of you and umption._ One of Nick’s more pithy sayings.

But if she didn’t break for it – if she let him get ahead of her—

Sometimes, one had to take a risk. Wasn’t that what she’d done to end the Hydra war?

Maria sprinted from cover, legs moving, arms pumping. Those first few seconds were about gaining speed, using Craft to shove herself over the snowy drifts, using Craft to firm up the snow beneath her boots. Then the long flat stretch of ground, dropping spellwebs that would blur her form as she ran – misdirection and disguise both.

She was running as she’d never run – as she’d never  _had_ to run. Until now, she’d always hidden.

_You don’t have to hide anymore._

Up the hill, scrambling for purchase – the snow hard and slippery from the day’s winds. A crunch behind her – muffled, distant – she lunged for the top, her breath hissing like steam through her teeth. Down the other side – the lee of the hill – through snow still soft and powdery.

In sight of the house, just past this last copse of trees and—

Maria yelped as he crashed into her, his arms hard around her as they went down in the snow. They rolled, soft flurries spuming up around them, until momentum failed, and she sprawled on the ground under him, panting.

* * *

“I suppose I was warned,” he said as he put the pieces away in the carved wooden box, and handed it to her for safe keeping. “ After this afternoon’s hunting game,” he qualified when she frowned, her brows lowering a little, her eyes narrowing.

“We play to our instincts in war, Prince. You know that.”

“Neither this game, nor this afternoon were war, Lady.”

“No?” She regarded him with arched brows. “You fight directly, Prince – open and fair. Ambushes, but no tricks or traps. You haven’t been setting up any complicated plays through the game – I haven’t had to watch ahead for your moves. And this afternoon, you didn’t try to trick me – you just tracked me; methodical and meticulous.”

Steve blinked. “Is that an assessment or a criticism?”

She leaned back in the chair, folding her hands over her stomach like a sleepy child, but the gaze she levelled upon him was anything but innocent. “Why can’t it be both?”

Either would be acceptable, coming from the woman Steve was going to serve as Queen. He sought to find a way to say that politely – he’d been out of a court too long.

She didn’t end up waiting for his answer.

“When I accepted your service, Prince Rogers, I told you I had plenty of Warlord Princes in my court.”

“Bossy, dark-Jewelled ones.” He remembered the conversation – the sting of her rejection sharp in his memory. And yet he’d offered himself for her service all the same. Something in her soul – something about her – had drawn him. The clarity of a Queen who held to the old ways, who respected and valued the strength of her males and didn’t just use them.

“Nick thinks in politics at the level of Territories and Provinces. Phil thinks in terms of people and policies. Both of them are political.” Her gaze was steady as she named the other two points of her Blood triangle. “You think in terms of war strategy – and you think direct. That’s not a criticism,” she added when he shifted. “I need that, as much as I need the others’ views and perspectives. Perhaps more, because they belong to me, and you don’t.”

It was a statement of truth, nothing more.

Steve felt stung, all the same.

* * *

Maria caught her breath – and not just from the attack.

Close above her, Prince Rogers’ face was burnished red from the cold, but his eyes were a fierce summer blue as they looked into hers with the all the power and heat of a Warlord Prince. “Lady.”

“Prince.” Her lips were frozen and her voice felt rusty and rough. “Well done.”

“You didn’t make it easy.”

“You didn’t want it easy.”

His mouth curved a little, less amusement than pleased thought. She thought he would roll off her then, help her up.

But his eyes remained fixed on hers, studying her in much the same way as he had the night she’d accepted his service. And her blood began mantling beneath her skin, drawn to the warmth of him, the attraction of a male who had sworn to serve her in the full knowledge that it would be at her leisure – or her pleasure if she so wished.

She didn’t have lover and she didn’t want one either.

_Aren’t you being a little precipitate? You presume he wants you._

Yet the look in his eyes said he did, even as he sat up and pulled her, first a kneeling position over her legs, then a standing one as he leaned back, getting up on his boots, taking her up with him. And he held onto her hands when she would have freed them from his touch.

It wasn’t oppressive, just...unnerving.

“Did you find the answers you were looking for, Lady?”

Maria considered him for a long moment, Queen to Warlord Prince, not witch to a potential-lover. “Yes,” she said, at last, hedging carefully. “Some of them.”

* * *

He could feel her gaze on him as he herded their glasses and containers over to the sideboard for collection by the housemaids tomorrow. It was a level and thoughtful stare, measuring, considering, deciding.

He’d begun the night uncertain if he would be able to perform to Maria’s satisfaction, should he be called upon in bed. Now, he was rather wishing she would invite him to bed. Suddenly, the contraceptive brew Prince Thor had given him had a weight to it.

Should he offer? It had been some time since Steve had been asked to bed – longer since he’d been called upon to act as a consort, and the role of Consort hadn’t been his since Peggy. Oh, there’d been women willing to invite him to bed now and then, and he was a Warlord Prince with all the ferocity and sensuality of the caste.

But this was a Queen – the Queen he was going to serve.

A different kind of want that pulsed through him – not just physical, but the desire to be trusted in her quarters, in her bed, in her body.

Steve turned, prepared to mouth one of the formal phrases that denoted a male’s willingness to be bedded, should a witch desire it.

She’d crossed the room to put the chess box away on a shelf, and without looking around, said simply, “Thank you for your time, Prince Rogers.”

The dismissal was plain, distinct as the line of her spine curving down into the back of her dress.

“Good night, Lady Hill.”

As he let himself out, he looked back, and found her staring thoughtfully into the shadows of the room, the evening gown clinging to her slight curves, the tendrils of hair curling down around her neck like an invitation to touch. Her lips were slightly parted, her hands resting lightly on one of the shelves as though she’d forgotten entirely where she was.

A Warlord Prince’s hunger unfolded within Steve – the desire to please, to be approved, to be respected and needed by a Queen – by _this_ Queen – and to serve to her satisfaction and her satiation.

Steve coiled the desire up with practised control and put it away, leaving his Queen alone with her thoughts.

 

 


End file.
